


On The Horizon

by EndlessEcho



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Daedra Worship (Elder Scrolls), Dark Magic, Dragons, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, Headcanon, High King Ulfric Stormcloak, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Skyrim Main Quest, Stormcloak Victory, Thalmor Being Assholes (Elder Scrolls), Uneasy Allies, War, Werewolves, With A Twist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26755069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EndlessEcho/pseuds/EndlessEcho
Summary: When Skyrim's civil war finally ends with Ulfric Stormcloak being named High King, the people are relieved; eager for peace to return to the land once again. Unfortunately for them, the Thalmor seem to have something else in mind that threatens to tear the very nation apart. Oh, and if that's not enough, it looks like the damn dragons are coming back.A retelling of Skyrims main quest featuring one rogue Thalmor agent and his reluctant bosmer companion as they set out to free Skyrim, and perhaps all of Tamriel, from the Dominions grasp once and for all.
Relationships: Male Dovahkiin | Dragonborn/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome! I've had the idea of this fic in my head for several years now, and I've finally taken the time over the last few months to get working on it for real and get bad boy written. I wanted to do something a little different than the many many other Skyrim fics out there, so I hope is doesn't disappoint :)
> 
> It will eventually feature some gay elf romance because I couldn't resist, but it's not the main focus of the story so if thats not really your thing I hope you still give this story a shot!

**26th of Mid Year 4E201, Broken Oar Grotto - Haafingar Hold, Skyrim**

“Your eagerness is commendable, Ambassador, but to do so without the proper authorization-” Solimar’s eyes narrowed at the smirk that played across Elenwen’s lips as he spoke, and he found himself wishing, not for the first time, that it had not been him sent to this freezing, barbaric country to deal with _this_. Overseeing the withdrawal and reorganization of troops he could handle, but his ship had just arrived from Alinor that afternoon after weeks at sea, and the First Emissary had a special way of testing his limited patience.

“Apologies, my lord,” she purred back, not sounding even remotely apologetic. “But I received word from the rest of the High Council with permission to proceed.” Golden eyes widened in faux concern. “Were you not informed?”

The mer’s black gloved hands balled into fists in his lap and he took a steadying breath. _I_ should _have been, Auri-El give me strength_. The Thalmor had ways to pass information quickly over long distances with help of the arcane, and while locating him while at sea would be difficult, it wasn’t impossible, and yet they still hadn’t seemed to see it as necessary. 

“I see,” he grunted after a moment, not wanting to give Elenwen the satisfaction of reacting beyond that. “What is the latest update then?”

“It is just as we thought, my lord.” Second Emissary Silurie, at least, spoke to him with the genuine respect his position on the Council demanded, and when his gaze flickered to her, the female mer gave him a small, pleased smile. “The Nords really are quite predictable creatures. They have been especially paranoid of our lingering presence in Skyrim since the end of the civil war. Coaxing them back into violence was simplicity itself.”

“Especially when most of them _already_ seemed to think any non-human could be a Thalmor agent,” Rulindil snorted in amusement from where he had been lingering by the door to Elenwen’s makeshift office where the four Altmer were meeting. 

With the Stormcloak’s unfortunate and sudden victory in the war, the Dominion’s presence was no longer tolerated by the people of Skyrim, so they had been forced to abandon the Embassy and set up a new hidden base in this grotto on the coast just north of Solitude. Clearing out the smugglers that had been using it before had been no challenge for the elven soldiers, and the layers of illusion glamors on the entrance kept the locals from venturing too close. Not a permanent solution, and Solimar had _thought_ he was coming here simply to observe the withdrawal of most of their troops from the land and ensure the transition went smoothly, but it seemed the gods had other plans for him.

“Having that Dunmer woman kill the blacksmith in the middle of the market was particularly effective,” the Third Emissary added with a smirk. “The Nords of Windhelm are especially distrustful of outsiders, and that was all it took for a group of them to riot and set the Dunmer quarter in the city ablaze.”

“A Dunmer?” Solimar raised an eyebrow. “One of ours?”

“Oh no,” Elenwen waved a hand dismissively. “Simply one of the city’s residents that we had an illusion mage coax into the attack. The guards made short work of her afterwards, and there is no evidence to tie her back to the Thalmor directly, but public opinion seems to believe it could be little else.”

“As it is in every hold across Skyrim,” Silurie added, also sounding quite smug now. “Everywhere we have orchestrated attacks, mer and beast alike are being banished from their cities or simply killed on the fear that they too could be Dominion assets. It is only a matter of time before word reaches Cyrodiil and the Empire is forced to intervene.”

 _And then this land will be thrust back into war_ , Solimar thought solemnly. _Just as the Thalmor want_ . He knew he should be pleased with this news, but the Altmer couldn’t shake his growing unease in his chest. _Elven supremacy_. That was the core ideal behind every action the Thalmor took, and yet they were so willing to write off the lives of untold innocent mer to carry out the Ambassador's latest scheme. Lesser mer, perhaps, but it made him uncomfortable to think about. 

Not that he could ever voice those kinds of concerns here. He was young for a mer who had gained such high status; just under a century old and already he had been serving on the Thalmor High Council for nearly a decade. Even here, Silurie was the nearest to him in age and she was still at least thirty years his elder. He would have to watch his words carefully while he was here, lest these mer decide to view his inexperience and youth as a weakness.

“And the Stormcloak king?” He asked instead, amber eyes returning to Elenwen. “How has he reacted to all of this?” The man was something of a personal project of hers from what he understood, spanning all the way back to the Great War.

The female mer surprised him by barking out a short, amazed laugh. “He has yet to do _anything_! The people look to him for guidance, and yet he hasn’t left his palace or acknowledged the situation at all.” 

Unexpected, considering the man’s reputation, but he could see how this would work in their favor as well. If the newly crowned king could not rally and reassure his people, it was unlikely he would be staying in power for much longer.

“Thank you, Madame Ambassador,” he said rather suddenly, rising to his feet. “You’ve given me much to consider. Now if you don’t mind, I have other matters that require my attention.”

“Of course, my lord.” Elenwen answered smoothly, inclining her head. “I would be happy to answer any further questions when your schedule allows.”

 _I’m sure_ , Solimar thought wryly, nodding a farewell to the three before turning and making his way out of the office, pulling up the hood of his robes as he went, shadowing his face from view.

His pair of bodyguards detached from where they had been waiting on either side of the door, easily falling into step behind at a respectable distance as he made his way down the docks towards his ship. He planned to simply return to his rooms and stew over this new information until it was time for his evening meal, but as he approached the ramp leading up to the deck, his steps faltered and he paused, hesitating. His gaze turned towards the path leading to the entrance of the grotto, and he found his steps bringing him in that direction instead.

“My lord?” One of his guards inquired politely.

“I am going for a walk,” he replied firmly. “You both are to remain here.”

“But, my lord-!” The other began to protest, though he fell silent as Solimar raised a hand, glancing back at them with narrowed amber eyes.

“That is an _order_ , Hanil,” he snapped. “I will return within the hour. If not you may come search for me then, but not before. Is that clear?”

The pair exchanged an uncertain look, but bowed their heads in acceptance. “Of course, my lord,” they echoed.

“Good,” Solimar grunted, continuing on without another word. He normally did not mind their presence, they were tasked in protecting his life with their own if necessary after all, but for now he just needed to _think_ in peace.

There was a lone mer standing guard just outside who stood to hasty attention as he approached. Glancing at him briefly, Solimar saw he was pitifully young looking, as many of the soldiers stationed here were, and his green eyes and red hair betrayed his poor breeding. At least he knew his place well enough not to question where the councilman was heading, and let him pass without a word.

The Altmer shivered lightly at the freezing sea breeze as he made his way along the rocky coast, but his enchanted robes thankfully kept the worst of the chill away.

Once he was far enough away to be certain there were no prying eyes or ears on him any longer, he allowed the growl he’d been suppressing to escape his lips, lightning sparking around his gloved fingers. He was angry, to put it lightly. Frustrated with Elenwen’s blatant lack of respect, yes, but it was the other four High Council members in Alinor that he was really furious with. When Skyrim’s war ended, there had been much discussion about the Thalmor’s next move would be, and he was the one who suggested it might best to simply withdraw their forces from the country so the Nords would lower their guard and they had ample time to set a new plan in motion. What was a decade or even two to an elf?

The rest had agreed with him, at the time at least, and Lelorion sent him on the next ship here to supervise the operation. What he _hadn’t_ expected, was for them to hold a vote once he was away and not even _inform him_! With five members on the council, they relied on a majority opinion, so if even if only three of the others agreed with Elenwen’s plot, his thoughts wouldn’t have mattered anyway, but to leave him in the dark and let the Ambasador be the one to tell him? It was bad enough Vorundil and Miranya didn’t always take him seriously, but to give that insufferable female mer the satisfaction of catching him off guard grated his nerves.

And to be so accepting of the loss of so many mer lives from the sound of things. It was… troubling. Enemies of the Thalmor were one thing, but the killing of innocent common-folk had always made him uneasy; man or mer.

“Fuck!” He shouted, knocking his hood back to run a hand through his shoulder length white-blond hair. Maybe he _was_ just too soft for this, but he didn’t know of anything else he could do than to just ignore his worries and go along with it. 

Just like he always has...

He found himself thinking of the Stormcloak, wondering how the man was handling things. Or _not_ handling things, if Elenwen’s intel was to be believed. He would have no idea what was really coming for him.

“Maybe I could…” Solimar murmured, but then scowled and shook his head. No, there was no way Ulfric Stormcloak would trust anything _he_ had to say, especially now. If he could even make it as far as Windhelm on his own, he had no chance of actually getting into the city if he tried.

But… That made him wonder. If there really were refugees fleeing the cities, he could probably pass himself off as one. It could be a start, at least, as foolish and dangerous as it would be. Not to mention there was no chance he could just _walk away_ from the Thalmor. He knew too much, and the thought of being hunted by their assassins scared him more than facing the Nords.

He paused, glancing anxiously back the way he had come. _But that’s the right thing to do, isn’t it_? He’d been a part of many terrible things in his life, and he’d always managed to justify his actions in that he was acting for the good of the Dominion. This time however, he found himself unable to do the same. 

“I’m really going to do this, aren’t I?” He whispered with a final troubled sigh, steeling himself. “Auri-El give me strength.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is just a quick prologue chapter to set everything up and lay out some lovely plot, and I'll update with the first real chapter soon so we can get this rolling! I'm very excited to see what you all think :) any and all comments and feedback are welcome and encouraged.
> 
> Quick note about elf ages as well; I want to sort of follow their established 200-300 year lifespan, so in my fic at least they age at about one third the rate of humans. So Solimar being 96 years old, is the same as a human man in his early 30s. An elf can easily hit 200, the same as a human hits ~70, but 300 is more of a real accomplishment and a handful in history with particular strong arcane connections have even hit 500.


	2. Chapter One

**16th of Sun’s Height 4E201 - Falkreath Hold, Skyrim**

With a sigh, Calin wiped the sweat dripping from his brow with the back of a hand, brown eyes lifting to scan his surroundings. Nothing, which was unsurprising. Not many were as willing as him to venture this far into the wilderness, even in times like these, but he was a Bosmer born and raised in Valenwood’s Deep Green; there was nothing the woods of Falkreath could throw at him that he couldn’t handle.

He was more worried about running into a group of Nords than he was of any wild beast anyway, but at least they tended to move around about as subtly as a herd of rampaging mammoths, so he wasn’t really too concerned about any catching him off guard.

Returning his knife to its sheath on his thigh, the wood elf tucked a stray lock of long auburn hair behind an ear before gathering the pelt of the deer he’d been skinning into his arms and draped it over the low branch of a nearby tree.

His future in this country was uncertain, he’d had no choice but to leave Whiterun several weeks earlier for his own safety as things had begun taking a turn for the worse. Many Nords were already suspicious of mer, especially since the Great War, and he was well used to that by now, but this new open hostility from ones he would have before called friends cut deep. He was a Companion of Ysgramor for Y’ffre’s sake, and had been for a decade now. The people of Whiterun _knew_ him, respected him, except it seemed that was no longer the case. 

Even Vignar Grey-Mane, the new jarl who had once been a trusted shield-brother, hadn’t come to his defence. It seemed all he had on his side now were those still living in Jorrvaskr, who had all been more than willing to fight on he and Athis’ behalf, but Calin didn’t want it to have to come to that. He had heard how the grey quarter in Windhelm had been burned nearly to the ground by a Nord mob, and one of the Khajiit caravans had recently been attacked and slaughtered in the Rift. The thought of the Companions and Jorrvaskr to being next weighed heavy in his mind, and so one night he and Athis packed their bags and sneaked out of the city. A coward’s move, perhaps, but better that then stay and risk everyone in the hall be killed.

Not that it mattered much in the end; two days later they’d been ambushed on the road, the Dunmer falling dead with an arrow through his throat before they even realized what was happening. The sight of him laying there, red eyes having widened in shock and now staring out at him lifelessly had awoken Calin’s inner beast in a murderous rage. He didn’t quite remember transforming and ripping the attackers to shreds, but it had likely saved his own life…

Shuddering at the memory, the Bosmer turned back to his camp. It wasn’t much, a canopy of furs over a bedroll and whatever belongings he’d managed to carry with him from Whiterun. He could likely survive out here indefinitely if he wanted to, which _did_ bring him small comfort, but even after just a few weeks he was growing restless. His race wasn’t the solitary sort, and his beast longed to return to his pack. He _could_ try and return to Valenwood, but he had left his tribe as soon as he’d come of age at fifty, nearly two decades earlier, and wasn’t too keen on going back to his old life there just yet.

Just as he was about to get back to work on his deer, the warning bark of a fox nearby had him pause, head cocking to the side as he listened hard. Wolves would mostly leave him alone, but there were still plenty of other creatures who might try and challenge him for his kill. 

Sure enough, he could hear twigs snapping and leaves rustling, but as it drew closer he realized that this was no bear or troll. Only a human could move through the trees so clumsily, and it seemed they were headed straight for his camp.

Mentally cursing his luck and lack of armor, as he was clad only in a pair of soft leather trousers and boots at the moment, Calin grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming for the spot he expected this unwanted visitor to emerge from. 

The figure that staggered into view a moment later revealed itself to be probably the most sorry excuse for an Atlmer that he had ever seen; clad in filthy and torn robes, pale hair a wild, tangled mess and the golden skin of his face was streaked with dirt and grime. The other mer didn’t even seem to realize he was there as he tripped over some roots and stumbled forward, cursing to himself as he barely managed to keep from falling on his face.

“You lost?” The words came out harsher than intended, but the Bosmer recognized the Thalmor pattern on his robes and his grip on his bow tightened. _Of course it’s a bloody Thalmor_.

The other mer made a strangled noise of alarm at his words, head snapping up and panic on his face as his gaze locked on the arrow that was trained on him. “I knew it,” his voice was rough from disuse, but that didn’t quite hide the tremble of fear. “I knew they would send someone after me.” He took a step back, raising shaking hands as if to shield himself, lightning crackling weakly in his palms.

“What are you talking about?” Calin snapped back, eyes narrowing as he felt his beast stir in the back of his mind, growling eagerly for him to put an end to one of those responsible for bringing this mess to Skyrim in the first place, but the elf pushed back against the urge. For now. “No one _sent_ me here. I’m here because of you damn Thalmor not being able to leave anything alone!”

That had the stranger pause, and as those amber eyes scanned over him, some of the fear in them seemed to fade, though he still looked weary. “You..” He took a deep breath and lowered his hands, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “You were not sent by the Ambassador for my retrieval?”

“Of course not!” Calin lowered his bow, though he wasn’t about to let his guard down just yet. This mer didn’t _seem_ hostile, just spooked, and if he really was on the run from the rest of the Thalmor… Well, there was a story behind that at least. 

“I-I see.” The altmer glanced around the small camp then, clearing his throat and straightening back up to his full height. “Ah, my apologies for the intrusion. These are not the safest times for a lone mer to be traveling Skyrim, as I am sure you understand.”

“Yea, I noticed,” The wood elf gave a wry smirk, setting his bow down and returning the arrow to it’s quiver, before grabbing for his waterskin and tossing it to the other mer, who reached out to catch it in surprise. “I’m Calin.”

“Solimar,” he rasped in response, bringing it to his lips and drinking deeply.

The Bosmer gave a nod and sank down to sit cross legged on the ground, elbows resting on his knees as peered curiously up at the other. “So what brings you here to my camp, Solimar?” He couldn’t help but wonder just how long he had been wondering around to end up in such a state; he was shaky on his feet, as much as he was trying to hide it, and his face seemed more sunken in than it likely should. Also, if his scent was any indicator, it had been ages since he’d had a proper bath.

“Ah,” the Altmer breathed, hesitating for a moment before lowering himself to sit as well. “It is… complicated.” He gazed hard at the waterskin clenched in both hands in his lap, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I have done many terrible things in my life in service to the Thalmor, but this…”

“What even _is_ the point of all this?” Calin couldn’t help but ask. “Everyone figured they would be upset when the Stormcloaks won the war, but what are they trying to achieve?”

Solimar glanced up, meeting his gaze, looking troubled. “Well, it _is_ in the Dominion’s best interest for the human realms to remain at war with one another. What do you think the Emperor will do when he learns that the new High King is allowing his people to slaughter the mer and beast folk of the country?”

The Bosmer’s eyes widened as the realization dawned on him. “By Hircine’s hairy balls,” he breathed, earning a quirked eyebrow from the other elf but he ignored it as he carried on. “I really should have guessed as much, but why so soon? The civil war only ended a couple months ago and I thought you lot preferred to play the long game.”

“As did I,” the other admitted with a sigh. “When I arrived in Skyrim I was under the impression it was to assist in _removing_ most of the Thalmor agents. None of us believed the Stormcloaks would actually _win_ the war, you must understand, so we were not as prepared as we perhaps should have been. The Dominion cannot afford to lose many more soldiers right now, so this scheme of theirs is _insanity_! When the Empire invades again, they will no doubt be there, ensuring this time it does go in their favor.”

 _Aaaaand_ Calin could feel a headache coming on. This was too much. “Okay,” he said slowly, mentally cursing; as if he didn’t have enough to deal with already. The beast’s wish to simply kill this mer and forget this ever happened was tempting, but he knew he would just end up regretting it later. Pity. “So… What? You don’t want to be in a war so you ran away?”

“I did not _run away_ !” Solimar snapped back, amber eyes narrowing dangerously. “I am not afraid of war. I was there when the Dominion captured the Imperial City, though I admit I did not see much of the actual combat.” The anger faded from his eyes at the admission, leaving him just looking defeated. “I do not hate the Thalmor, but I _do_ hate some of the things they have done. Talos worship or not, the people of Skyrim do not deserve this.”

Yes, this was definitely going to give him a migraine. The Bosmer sighed, raising a hand to rub at his temple. He had a feeling that Solimar wasn’t just any regular old Justiciar, and so his fear of assassins hunting him probably wasn’t too far off. _Great, just what I needed_ . He mused. _What god did I piss off this time_?

“Alright then, you sorry elf,” he huffed, getting to his feet. “I’m not about to take on the damned Thalmor or anything, but I’ll help get you cleaned up and fed.” He smirked at the look of surprise on the Altmer’s face. “You’re looking pretty pathetic right now, if I’m honest. I’m sure you could use it.”

Solimar blinked, seeming offended for a moment, but then bowed his head with a weary laugh. “I fear you are quite right. Thank you.”

Shaking his head, Calin turned away. _I’m going to regret this, I just know it_ …

* * *

  
  


The Altmer breathed a sigh of relief as he lowered himself into the cool water, feeling his body relax for the first time in _far_ too long. He wasn’t sure just how long it had been since he first set out on this fool’s quest, the days all blurred together at this point, but it had to have been several weeks at least. 

He hadn’t gotten very far from the grotto before he realized he had no idea where to even go, but he’d kept himself pushing forward determinedly just to put as much distance between himself and the Thalmor base as possible before they could discover his absence. Perhaps if he was lucky they would think him abducted by locals which could buy him some additional time while they investigate the area. 

Regardless, ever since that first sleepless, terrifying night alone, Solimar had been forced to abandon whatever naive thoughts he’d had of helping the Nords in favor of focusing on his own survival. He’d been given the same basic outdoors training as every Thalmor agent, but he’d never had to actually put it to _use_ before; a mer of his standing could always rely on others to do the grunt work for him, and he never would have thought he’d resent that fact until he realized he was helpless by himself.

Well, not quite. He still had his magic, Auri-El be praised, and he’d always been particularly gifted in the arcane. Destruction spells had saved his life more than once when vicious beats wondered too close, no doubt hoping to make an easy meal of him. Small animals were quite vulnerable to his fireballs as well, when he managed to actually hit one at least... The memory of ripping apart squirrels with his bare hands and tearing into them with his teeth like a starving animal would probably haunt him for the rest of his life. 

_If the rest of the Council could see me now_ …

Shuddering, Solimar ducked his head beneath the surface and scrubbed at his face with his hands to rid it of it’s coating of dirt. He hadn’t dared stop before to wash properly, much as he despised himself for it. He’d already been a paranoid wreck, glancing over his shoulder constantly and expecting an enemy to be waiting behind every tree, so bathing hadn’t been as much a priority as keeping himself on the move.

The wood elf had told him this was Lake Ilinalta, which if he recalled correctly was just north of Falkreath; a massive expanse of water surrounded by dense wilderness. He was more exposed here than he would have liked, but Calin had brought him to a fairly secluded spot along the shore and it was probably as hidden as he’d be able to get. 

Besides, the desire to be clean, especially around the other mer, was currently stronger than any fear he had of being found. He was already embarrassed enough about the state he had been in earlier when he’d first stumbled, quite literally, into the other’s camp.

A camp which the Bosmer had returned to in order to give him a bit of privacy and to get a meal started for them both, for which Solimar was very grateful. He knew how lucky he was for having found him, out of everyone else he could have crossed paths with out here, and was fairly certain at this point that Calin meant him no real harm. Even if he _did_ decide to kill him in his sleep, the Altmer found he was just too mentally exhausted to stress over it too much. At least he’d die knowing he had t _ried_ to do the right thing.

Returning to the surface, the Altmer quickly scrubbed down the rest of his body. He had no soap, but he found it hard to care as he mostly just wished to be free of the dirt and grime. He winced when his fingers made their way to his hair, combing them through the pale strands to work out the worst of the knots.

“You’re looking better already!” A voice called out a short while later, startling him, but he relaxed again when he spotted the grinning wood elf watching from the bank. His long red hair was now tied back in a loose braid, and he’d changed into a set of fine leather armor which had what looked like wolf heads ornamented in steel at the shoulders.

“Thank you,” he nodded back, unsure of how else to respond, but he did _feel_ a lot better already at least.

Calin stepped closer to set down some neatly folded clothing on the bank. “I think these should be about your size. They belonged to Athis but, well, he won’t be needing them anymore. They should do until your other clothes are cleaned and repaired at least.”

“Athis?” He found himself asking, though from the way he’d spoken it was quite obvious what must have happened. 

Sure enough, the wood elf’s grin faded. “A Dunmer friend of mine. We fled Whiterun together, but Nords killed him not long after.”

“Ah I see,” he murmured, frowning. “I am… sorry to hear that.”

The Bosmer blinked curiously back at him, before nodding slowly. “Thank you.” He pursed his lips. “But I gave it some thought, and if you’re trying to leave Skyrim I could take you to the Khajiit. I ran into some other refugees a few days ago who told me there’s a caravan holed up nearby, helping those fleeing their homes. If anyone can get an ex-Thalmor agent smuggled across the border, it’s Ri’saad. I was considering seeking them out myself anyway, to do what I could to help.”

“You expect me to entrust my life to _Khajiit smugglers_?” He demanded in surprise, though he regretted it instantly when Calin’s brown eyes narrowed into a furious glare, mouth twisting in a snarl.

“Yes!” He spat back. “They’re your best bet of leaving this country alive, but if you’d rather go back to wandering around on your own, don’t let me stop you!” He sighed, some of the anger fading as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, I don’t know what else you could want. I’ll feed you and protect you if I have to on the journey, but that’s all I can do for you.”

Much as he was loathed to admit it, Solimar knew he was right. These past weeks had proved he wasn’t suited for traveling on his own, and perhaps if he could make it to Cyrodiil, he could rally others to his cause. It was a start, at least, and while he would not allow himself to be _hopeful_ , not yet, he would be a fool to pass on the opportunity.

“Very well,” the altmer sighed, lowering his gaze. “My apologies. If you would take me to meet with this Ri’saad, I would be grateful.”

“Aye, that’s what I thought,” Calin smirked. “Now get dressed, elf. Food will be ready soon.”

And with that, the Bosmer turned and disappeared back into the trees, leaving Solimar staring after him wondering just how his life had come to this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my version of Skyrim is considerably larger than the game portrays, and I've taken some creative liberties with some locations and cities and such to make the world seem more realistic and flushed out. A journey from Whiterun to Markarth, for example, would take about a week by horse, and the large cities are home to ~ several thousand ish ~ people. All of this will be explained in further detail later on as we get to actually the different places, but just something to keep in mind as you go along. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are always appreciated, let me know what you think so far! :)


	3. Chapter Two

Amber eyes fluttered open, only to blink in bleary confusion as they took in the sight of the makeshift tent of furs surrounding him. _What_ … _?_ Shifting in the bedroll he was tucked into, which was a rather strange feeling after weeks of sleeping on the hard ground, Solimar hands rose to rub at his face in an effort to clear the sleepy haze clouding his thoughts and he groaned. _Where…?_

However a soft noise from behind had him sitting up with a gasp, sudden panic clawing at his chest, though when his wide eyes met the weary gaze of the Bosmer outside, he again began to relax. “Ah,” he breathed after a moment, the memories of the day before finally coming back to him. “That’s right.”

“Good morning.” Calin hummed from where he was seated just outside the tent by a small fire. His hair was loose of it’s braid, hanging in thick waves down his back, and he was again clad in that curious wolf leather armor but now had a short steel sword on one hip and a dagger at the other, bow and quiver within reach beside him as well.

 _Armed and ready for a fight_ , Solimar observed, nodding back as he recalled the more casual state he’d been in the day before when he’d first come upon the camp. He’d clearly decided to take the Altmer’s fear of being followed seriously, and Solimar couldn’t help but feel far too vulnerable by comparison in his simple borrowed tunic. He disliked how exposed he was without his familiar robes and hood, and hoped they had dried enough by now to put back on.

“Well, good _afternoon_ , really,” the Bosmer continued after a moment, tilting his head to the side as his lips twitched into a smirk. “You were asleep for a long time, my lord, but I thought it best to leave you to it.”

Solimar’s eyes narrowed slightly at the wood elf’s teasing tone, but decided to ignore it. “You have my thanks.” As he rose and emerged from the tent, he couldn’t help but cast a quick paranoid glance at the forest around them before coming to sit beside the smaller mer.

Calin grunted back, nodding to the small pot beside the fire, not quite touching the flames but close enough to keep it’s contents warm. “Help yourself.”

“You are most kind,” the Altmer murmured, leaning forward to serve himself a bowl. It was the same venison stew they had eaten the night before, thick with chunks of mostly meat but some potato as well, and while it was a far cry from the meals he was used to being served, it was the most delicious thing he’d eaten in weeks and he was hardly going to complain.

As Solimar took his first bite, the wood elf turned his attention back to the dark cloth laid over his lap, and the Altmer raised a brow as he recognized his own trousers. To his surprise, Calin was actually in the process of sewing shut the various holes and rips with the confident ease of someone used to such tasks. Unexpected, but not as much as the fact that he had even _bothered_ . On top of everything else, he hadn’t thought Calin would _mend his clothing_ for him. 

“Ah, you do not have to-” he began to protest, swallowing his mouthful of stew.

Now it was the Bosmer’s turn to raise a brow, no little amusement on his face as he glanced back over. “No? Used to doing your own tailoring are you, _my lord_?”

Solimar’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Stop calling me that,” he snapped, though truthfully he’d never held a needle and thread in his life. “I simply meant that with how much you were already helping me, this was unnecessary.”

“What can I say, we Bosmer are generous.” Sly grin still in place, Calin returned to his task. “It’s no trouble. Besides, I burned your robes earlier so I thought this might make up for it.”

“You did _what_?” Straightening in shock, the Altmer sent him a frosty glare. “How dare you-”

“Oh _relax_ .” Calin rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t need them anymore, surly. Wearing them is like _asking_ someone to kill you; I’m honestly amazed you made it this far with them.”

The Altmer bit back a harsh retort, well aware that the wood elf was right and wearing them was foolish, but he had still been quite attached to those robes.Thalmor uniform or not, they’d had several powerful enchantments woven into them and it seemed a waste to just destroy them, but it was too late now. “Perhaps,” he grunted back. “Though I would appreciate it if you could refrain from destroying more of my things in the future.”

Calin glanced back towards him curiously, and Solimar allowed himself to give a faint smirk, raising a brow expectantly. “Aye,” the Bosmer chuckled with a nod, correctly guessing that he had been forgiven. “I think I can manage that.” 

It went unspoken that he didn’t exactly _have_ any other belongings, on his person at least, but Solimar recognized the importance of staying on this elf’s good side for the sake of his own survival. He was no fool; he knew how fortunate he was to have crossed paths with him when he had, and was more grateful than he could say for all of the unexpected help. A strange feeling to be sure, and Solimar was unsure of how to even really _speak_ to the Bosmer, but arguing over something done for his own benefit wasn’t going to do him any favors.

A large part of him was also quite intrigued by this wood elf, who was so unlike the various Bosmer servants and soldiers he’d dealt with in the past. Less refined than anyone usually allowed in polite Altmer society, but still very capable in his own right, as living out here alone had proved. His armor and weapons also seemed well crafted, likely above average quality, and he guessed they were no stranger to use.

Silence fell between the pair while Solimar ate, though he couldn’t help but eventually glance back to the other elf. “You said you are from Whiterun?” He asked after a brief hesitation. “Have you been in Skyrim long?”

Calin seemed surprised by the question when he looked up to meet his gaze. “Aye, over ten years now.”

“That long?” Solimar blinked. The Bosmer looked young, a couple decades younger than himself at any rate, and it was rare for Altmer to leave the Isles at such an age. Was it more common for wood elves?

“It’s been almost twenty since I left Valenwood. I’ve just been in Skyrim the longest.”

“Oh, I see.” He was silent for a moment, but was unable to keep from asking, “Why did you leave?” Many Bosmer left their homeland to join the Dominion, but it was strange to think of one going to willingly live among humans for so long. Would the company of fellow mer not be better?

“And why do you want to know?” Calin’s tone was sharper now and he was staring at Solimar almost accusingly. “No offence, _my lord_ , but it’s usually best for one’s health the _less_ the Thalmor knows about them.”

He was not wrong, and despite himself, Solimar felt his cheeks grow warm under his stern gaze. “I am _not_ Thalmor anymore,” he corrected firmly, then bowed his head with a sigh. “But I must admit I am simply curious. I’ve not met many from outside of Alinor, and you are not quite what I’ve come to expect.” The truth felt better than attempting to lie, and the Bosmer seemed far too perceptive to be fooled anyway. 

Calin was quiet for a long moment, and the Altmer wasn’t sure he’d answer, but eventually the smaller mer’s posture relaxed and he huffed out a little laugh. “I get that a lot, actually.” He sounded amused again, to Solimar’s own relief, though his tone turned more wistful as he continued. “I loved my tribe, truly, but I was always more restless than most of them. We were pretty far removed from everything, only sometimes getting news of the rest of the world from our neighbors. Nothing exciting or different ever happened and I was _bored…_ So I left. I went to Elsweyr first, which was still struggling to recover from the War at the time.”

Solimar frowned as he recalled just how many Khajiit had died on the front lines when they’d invaded Cyrodiil. Many of them were natural warriors, and they were far easier to replace than mer who took longer to breed and mature. Indifference towards non-Altmer had really been necessary in his years with the Dominion, but thinking too deeply about the lives affected by their actions had always made him uncomfortable, so _that_ had been something best avoided for his own sake. He was both surprised and ashamed with himself as he realized he had never really considered the state of the commonKhajiit people after the years of aggressive recruitment during the Great War. It would not have been easy for many, as the Bosmer had just confirmed.

“I ended up staying in Senchal for a few years, before I got restless again and took a ship to Anvil. Traveled around Cyrodiil for a while, and eventually ended up here in Skyrim where I was recruited into a mercenary group based in Whiterun. Decided I liked it enough there to stay for a decade.” Calin paused, brown eyes narrowing accusingly. “And that is where I would _still_ be if a certain group of elves hadn’t gone and ruined everything. Again.”

“My apologies,” the Altmer replied with a sigh, unsure of how else to respond. “Truly, for whatever it may be worth, I would never have agreed to such a thing. I never did have the same disregard for the lesser races that many of my colleagues shared. Such loss of innocent life is unnecessary and cruel.”

“Well it’s all going to be okay now!” Calin chirped back in faux cheer. “Saint Solimar is here! All alone…. Without Allies or a plan, and he’s going to _save us all!_ Gods be praised! _”_

The mocking words managed to strike a cord, and the Altmer stiffened in sudden anger. No one had dared to speak to him like that in a long time, and it was only because he knew he really did _need_ Calin’s help that he resisted his first urge to _put this insolent mer in his place_ … Tempting as it was, that would only result in nothing good for himself unfortunately. 

“I do not need _you_ to remind me that my leaving the way I did was foolish,” he ground out, scowling. “But I saw the opportunity and took it. I’ve survived thus far, have I not? I just need to get to Cyrodiil; a former Thalmor High Council member would be a useful ally against the Dominion, no?”

“A High Council…” The Bosmer’s tan skin paled a shade as he stared at him in shock, and Solimar belatedly realized that he hadn’t actually yet named his former position, only alluded vaguely to it, and his irritation gave way to unease at what the other mer would do with this new information.

* * *

  
  


“Y’ffre _aehni vellah,_ ” Calin muttered stiffly, looking away as he ran a hand aggressively through his hair. He was dead. He was _so_ dead. He’d assumed Solimar was a high ranking Justiciar or something, not a member of the bloody _High Council._ One of the mer in charge of the entire Aldmeri Dominion was really sitting here in his camp, eating his stew, wearing his dead friend’s clothes. And he definitely had agents after him; there was no way the Thalmor would allow one of their leaders to turn traitor and run. The kind of information he must have on the Dominion’s operations made him a real threat, and they would do anything in their power to silence him. That meant that the longer Calin was with him, the longer he was in danger as well.

The urgency of the situation hit him fully then, and he abruptly stood, tossing the other mer his trousers. They weren’t fully mended yet, but that was now the last of his worries. “Okay then,” he bit out, meeting Solimar’s gaze. The emotion he’d been surprised to see at all earlier had cleared from the Altmer’s expression, thoughts now hidden behind the same mask of cold indifference that was commonplace among Thalmor agents. “I’m leaving for a little while, and _you’re_ going to stay here and pack us the essentials for a journey of a few days, understood?”

“You are going?” Solimar’s voice wavered ever so slightly, betraying his nerves. “Where?”

“I need to figure out exactly where this Caravan is hiding out and get us there as quickly as possible, and I’m hoping to find an animal that can point me in the right direction. I shouldn’t be more than a couple hours, you’ll be fine.” What went unsaid was the bond of mutual respect he’d established with the local wolves, and that he was going to seek them out in particular; if any beast would be able to help it would be them. His Bosmer affinity for animals paired with a werewolf’s ease with wolves hopefully would pay off once again. “I assume you’re a mage, and a powerful one? I doubt you’d have made it this far if you weren’t.”

“Naturally,” the Altmer grunted back.

“Naturally,” Calin echoed with a nod. “Right, of course. So if anything happens don’t go blabbing that you’re ex-Thalmor obviously, act like you’re just another refugee. If that doesn’t work just use your magic and do what you have to until I get back.” As an afterthought, he took his dagger off his belt and held it out. “And take this, if it will make you feel better.”

The mer blinked, surprise flicking briefly in his amber eyes, but he reached out to accept the weapons after a moment’s hesitation. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know why I’m doing any of this,” Calin said with a frown, wanting to make that point perfectly clear. “I _should_ just kill you myself and forget this ever happened, but I’m apparently as much a fool as you, elf. Please try and not make me regret it.”

Perhaps if the Altmer had acted more in typical Thalmor fashion, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation now, but Solimar had seemed genuine enough that he had many regrets and was taking great personal risk to try and right those wrongs. Calin was always one to avoid getting involved too closely in politics, but he knew that all of Tamriel would be a better place without the Dominion breathing down everyone’s necks. If there was any one person with a chance of making a real impact against them it was Solimar, so he might as well help get him on the right path for everyone’s sake. Maybe then they would leave Skyrim alone and things could just go back to normal.

“Understood.” The Altmer bowed his head, pale hair falling forward to shield his face from view. “I am in your debt, I will repay you for this chance, I swear it.”

“Oh don’t start that,” Calin sighed, shaking his head. “One step at a time; let’s just see if we survive the week first, eh?”

Solimar huffed at that. “A fair point.”

“Aye, and the sooner you’re not my problem anymore the better. As far as I know, I haven't made the Thalmor watch list yet, and I’m not trying to break that record now.” Without waiting for the Altmer to respond, he turned and strode away from the camp, frown not quite leaving his face.

He felt a smug _told you so_ from his beast, who still believed killing the Altmer was the best option, but he was quick to clamp down on those thoughts. Like it or not, he was already involved in this and he was no coward. He may as well play his part and see what happened, but he had a strange inkling in his mind that this was only just beginning for him.

It was bound to be interesting, if nothing else...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be finding the Khajiit, which I'm excited about! The chapters are also going to get longer as we go forward too as things start to build up. Poor Cal is right and this is only just the start of things for him. 
> 
> Oh and side note, Cal's native tongue is Bosmeris (which I've loosely based off Sindarin elvish and tweaked to be more "Bosmer sounding".) It won't be a huge thing, but just little phrases here and there which I'll provide translation notes when they happen.  
> Y’ffre aehni vellah - Y'ffre give me strength
> 
> Thanks for reading, let me know what you think :)


End file.
